


That One Snowy Weekend

by toothandpaw



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen, Romance, Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-06
Updated: 2014-02-05
Packaged: 2018-01-11 08:39:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1170990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toothandpaw/pseuds/toothandpaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was his idea to take her to the States. It was somewhere she always talked about wanting to go, and after the week they'd had, he figured she more than deserved a treat. Of course, he hadn't planned on landing them in a blizzard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 It was his idea to bring them to the States. She'd confessed to him she'd never been, but had been keen to go since she was little a while ago, but he'd been so distracted, it had slipped his mind. But, after they left Mickey, he felt, more than ever, that he owed it to her. She'd just wandered the corridors of the TARDIS for hours after he left and the Doctor was helpless to do anything but offer her tea and a shoulder to cry on in the library. It made him feel worse when she'd fallen asleep on him, clutching the lapels of his jacket like a child would do to a favourite blanket. She'd lost her best friend and boyfriend that day, and it had been all his fault. He couldn't possibly let her be miserable forever on his account.

That's why he set the coordinates before she woke up that morning, to surprise her. Feeling rather excited about the prospect of Rose getting to see America for the first time with him. It was enough to make a man crazy. Instead of dwelling on it for too long, he set off for the kitchen, the first place, he knew for a fact, she would go after getting up. She was nothing if not habitual. He put the kettle on and went about making banana waffles he'd only just mastered a few days before, stealing bits of banana as he worked.

He started feeling really anxious when she didn't arrive when he expected her to. The waffles were half finished and the tea had been ready for awhile by the time she shuffled in and plopped herself down in a chair. Her hair was thrown up into a messy, falling apart, bun, her pyjama pants hung low on her helps as if they were about to fall off, and her oversized sweatshirt dwarfed her. To top it off, her eyes were still a bit red and bleary from all the crying the night before. He offered her a pathetic smile before he slid a plate across the table with a steaming stack of waffles, a mug of tea, and got the whipped cream out just for her – although he dig spray a bit in his mouth before handing it over. She muttered a quiet “ta” and dug in, tearing off bits of her breakfast and popping them into her mouth.

He watched, transfixed for a minute before he refocused himself. “I have a surprise for you,” he blurted, a grin stretching across his face once again.

Rose looked up, looking a bit shocked, mouth full. “Whot?” she asked around her food.

“A surprise! You're really gonna like this one, Rose. Oh, it's brilliant.” He halted himself before he spilled more than he wanted to. The Doctor jumped back from where he was standing. “We'll be there by the time you're dressed and everything.” He made to leave the room, but stopped just short, looking at her over his shoulder with a glint in his eyes. “You're gonna love it.”

A little under an hour later, she walked into the console room looking a lot less haggard and a lot more excited. She had on her usual jeans and t-shirt and trainers, her make-up was sill thick, and she was still his Rose. There was even a smile on her face when she looked up at the Doctor and asked, “well, go on then, where are we?”

He practically puffed out his chest as he lead her down the ramp. “San Diego, California, America,” he said proudly, throwing open the doors enthusiastically. They were suddenly hit with a rush of cold air, well below freezing, leafless trees surrounding them, it seemed. Rose scrambled back inside, rubbing her immediately cold arms. The Doctor frowned, poking his head out and looking around. A sky full of dark grey clouds held the promise of snow, as did the thick smell of it in the air.

Rose grabbed her navy coat she'd worn last Christmas from the rack off to the side and hurried to join him as he stepped out into the cold air. She zipped with one hand as the other shut the doors behind them. “I'm no geographer, but i'n't San Diego supposed 'ta be warm?” she asked, cheekily, her tongue poking out between her teeth.

He continued to frown as his eyes raked over the seemingly empty country road they'd been dropped next to. “Yeah,” he replied, distantly, “it's near the Mexican boarder; usually warm.”

“So then where did we land?”

“Definitely still in America, it's just a question of what state.” He turned back to her and held out his hand with a waggle of his eyebrows. “Care to find out?”

She took it eagerly and allowed herself to be tugged up next to him. “I'd love to.”

They followed the road, hand-in-hand for awhile, occasionally bumping shoulders as he told her all about his previous adventures in America, including a few times he accidentally saved one of their presidents' lives – some bloke called Taft – when he got stuck in a bathroom with an un-intimidating, albeit hostile, alien. “He told them he'd gotten stuck in the bathtub,” the Doctor explained, sending Rose into a fit of giggles.

“A bathtub! Really?” she exclaimed through her laughter. 

He was about to launch into another story when he felt something cold and wet hit his nose. He looked up to see a swirl of similar white specks falling all around them. He let out a laugh of his own, dropping Rose's hand to hold out his arms. “Snow, Rose! Real, honest snow!”

She let out a gleeful cry, turning with her arms in a similar position of his own. On impulse, she stuck out her tongue, determined to catch as many as she could. The Doctor looked on, beaming at her. She looked over at him for a moment before flinging herself into his arms. He grunted on impact, but held her close, all the same. He could smell her shampoo and her soap and that hint of hormones that just made her scent uniquely _Rose_. He swore he could get drunk off it, if he lingered too long.

Lucky for him – or unlucky, as the case may be – she let go first and bounced off to play in the falling snow. He grinned like an idiot, because he was, really. Just a big, dumb, brilliant idiot.

The thrill of snow still thrummed through her body as they continued on down the road, although she could feel the cold starting to creep through her clothes and start to seep into her bones. She hugged herself tightly, wishing she'd thought to grab a warmer coat when she left the TARDIS. The Doctor shrugged off his long coat and hung it on her shoulders without a word, then pulled her close to his body, an arm around her shoulders. She couldn't help but shift towards her only external heat source. It was the kind of cold that made a person glad to live far away from that place. As she stumbled along side the Doctor, Rose decided that if they ever made it back to the TARDIS, she wouldn't leave the arboretum for at least a week – the old girl kept it at a tropical constant of 28 degrees just for her.

It was another two hours and another five inches of snow before they even heard a car approach. Rose was decidedly freezing, practically being carried by the Doctor. She'd lost coherency miles back, as well as feeling in her extremities, despite his efforts to keep her body temperature up. If he was honest, he wasn't so sure she could handle being outside any longer. The car was coming from behind them, going the same way they were headed, and on the wrong side of the road, as far as she was concerned. Nevertheless, he stopped and waved manically for the car to stop.

When the dated Jeep-something-or-other pulled over and the driver got out, the Doctor breathed a sigh of relief. It was a boy, probably no older than seventeen or eighteen, in a black fleece jacket, jeans, and work boots, his brown wavy hair falling over his forehead. His cheeks were slightly pink from the sudden change in temperature, no doubt, but he looked otherwise normal. “Are you two okay?” he asked. Rose almost started by the accent; she was in America, but she was definitely not expecting him to sound any different than she did. It reminded her vaguely of Jack. She felt a twinge in her heart at the thought.

“Rose here is going into hypothermic shock, actually,” the Doctor answered, rather tersely, pulling her even closer, if possible.

The boy frowned. “Where are you guys headed?”

“Not sure, just trying to get our bearings. We got a bit turned around back there.”

“Well, here, why don't I give you a lift? I'm sure... Rose, did you say? Could use the heat in the car.” He gestured over his shoulder.

“That would be wonderful,” he managed, but it was spit out as if his words were a poison. 

With no small amount of help from the Doctor, Rose managed to climb into the back seat of the Jeep, behind the driver's seat – also on the wrong side, if you asked her – with the Doctor next to her. Neither bothered with seatbelts as he tucked her up close to him, her face instinctively seeking the heat of his chest. The boy sped off down the road, occasionally glancing at them in the rear-view mirror. Eventually, he spoke. “My name's Brendan, by the way,” he said.

“Nice to meet you, Brandon,” the Doctor replied, albeit a little more than tensely. Rose's lips were blue and he was scared out of his mind. He felt her squeeze his arm and looked down; she gave her best smile and he relaxed a little. At least she was aware of her surroundings. “This is going to sound daft, but could you tell us where we are?”

“You're near Deep River,” he answered, then hesitated. “In Connecticut,” he explained at the Doctor's blank expression.

“Right, Connecticut!” he said. “Lovely little state, Rose. First state to have its own constitution, makes a lot of nutmeg. Goldfish crackers are made here! You know, those little fish that taste like cheese that you love so much? The shore is lovely too. Mind, not quite as nice as California's, but Long Island Sound is a decent body of water. A bit dirty in the past few decades, but that'll all turn itself around soon enough. What else... Oh! They have casinos here too, Rose! The Pequots have Foxwoods and the Mohegans have Mohegan Sun. A bit too fogged over with smoke for my liking, but I suppose it's a casino and you can't really expect anything else. We can go, though, if ya like. Katherine Hepburn lived here too! Little town called Old Saybrook, I believe. Her house is breathtaking! And speaking of houses, Mark Twain has a house in Hartford. Designed it himself. Brilliant man, Sam. That was his real name. Story goes that he wrote under Mark Twain as a hat tip to his former life on the Mississippi River.”

She gave him another weak smile, but it was one that broke his heart. He pulled her impossibly closer and looked at Brendan's reflection pleadingly. With his attention back to Rose, he prattled on just to keep her focused, but he knew she was fading fast. “Is there any way you can drive a little faster!” he practically shouted as her eyes began to droop.

“Almost there,” he assured.

What seemed like a lifetime later, Brendan pulled into a snow covered drive and shut off the engine. They had arrived at an older-looking farm house the Doctor hardly noticed as he rushed to get Rose from the car to the house. Brendan ran ahead to unlock the door and point him in the direction of the sofa, shouting an awkward greeting to his mother. They divided and conquered as the Doctor settled her on the sofa, carefully removing her trainers to warm her toes properly, and Brendan to get as many blankets as possible. A taller, dark haired woman burst into the sitting room where the two travellers were situated, looking rather confused, but sympathetic. She took one glance at the girl on her sofa and disappeared into an joining room, only to reappear around a minute later with a bucket of water and a mug of a beverage he couldn't quite make out. Brendan came back soon after and helped him wrap Rose up and put her feet in the bucket.

“What are your names?” the woman asked, once the madness had died down a little. Rose was resting against the Doctor, sitting up with at least four blankets around her and her feet in the bucket of warm water. The beverage had been hot cocoa, but Brendan had absconded with it after it sat untouched for a few minutes.

“I'm the Doctor, this is Rose.”

Instead of questioning his name like he was used to, the woman just nodded. “I'm Angela. Where were you two headed?”

“California, if you can believe it.”

She smiled, resting a hand over her chest. “Two Brits trying to get to California through Connecticut? Sounds like a soapopera.” She shook her head. “I'm glad Brendan picked you up when he did. She may not have lasted more than a few hours out there.”

“I'm really grateful that he did.” And he was. He would have never forgiven himself if Rose had been any worse off.

They sat in silence for what seemed like a lifetime, he beginning to see the slow yet steady progress Rose was making; her cheeks were beginning to get colour back, her fingers had lost the ugly purple, and her breathing was getting much better. He let out a breath of relief, letting his cheek fall against the top of her head. The woman just watched. “Is there anything I can get you?”

“Tea would be lovely, if you have any.”


	2. Chapter 2

The last thing Rose remembered was being in a car. Her head was rather foggy and her very bones ached. With a few grunts and squeaks, she stretched out her legs to find a heavy pile of blankets pressing her into the cushions below. Confused, she peeled one eye open to find out exactly where she was. After a few successful blinks, she could make out a coffee table a few feet in front of her, although it was a bit sideways. _Sofa_ , she thought, catching the sight of the dark green cushion beneath her body. Her cheek was resting on a rather scratchy black pillow, but it felt nice; her head felt like lead. Not wanting to move much more, she glanced around the room. The walls were dark green as well, only a little lighter with white trim where they met the ceiling. There was a mahogany bookshelf overstuffed with books next to an empty doorway, a television sitting atop a stand on the other side of the coffee table, and there was light filtering in from a window covered by white drapes beside it. Her eyes drifted back to the bookshelf, lazily thinking about how much the Doctor would appreciate it.

_The Doctor_. She gasped, trying to push herself up. Before she got far, she clutched her head and fell back, dizzy. It was like when she'd gotten the flu on her thirteenth birthday and she'd felt as if someone had hit her over the head with a mallet half the week. Though disoriented, her chest was tight with fear. He couldn't have left her, he couldn't have. After Madame du Pompadour and Pete's World, he couldn't have just up and left her without any sort of goodbye, especially not when she hadn't a clue where she was.

Just as she was about to call out for him, she caught something move out of the corner of her eye, just behind the back of the sofa. She frowned, moving slower as she tried to make out what it was. At the arm near her feet, a little head of brown ringlets appeared. Rose was rather startled; she'd been picturing the worst, nastiest alien she'd ever seen, not the face of an innocent little girl. Said little girl, no older than six, was staring at her with her already huge brown eyes thrown wide and her mouth open, knowing she'd been caught. She made a move to run away, but Rose shook her head, opening her mouth a few times to speak, but finding herself unable. The little girl seemed to understand, though, and handed her a glass of water Rose hadn't originally noticed on the coffee table.

“I'm Rose,” she said a bit hoarsely as soon as she was able. “Whot's your name, then?”

“Desiree,” the girl squeaked, her voice high pitched and rough.

“Nice to meet you, Desiree. Is your mum around?”

Just as the words came out of her mouth, a tall woman with similarly curly hair glided into the room, hand on her hips. “Desiree, I told you to stay out of here until she was feeling better,” she scolded firmly. Rose shrunk back, remembering how it felt to have her own mum scold her in front of guests.

To her credit, Desiree had a good remorseful face, whether it was fake or not. Her eyes fell to the floor and she hung her head. “I just wanted to see her,” she muttered.

The woman shook her head. “Go sit in the kitchen, we'll talk about this in a minute.” As her daughter dragged herself through the doorway, presumably to the kitchen, the woman turned to Rose and gave her a slightly guilty smile. “I'm so sorry she woke you; sometimes she really can't control herself.”

“Oh, it's no trouble. I was awake before she came in.” She offered a tired smile. “Um, do you know where the Doctor is?”

She furrowed her brow, then a look of recognition crossed her elegant features. “Oh, yeah, right. He's outside helping Brendan get some firewood before they all get soaked with the snow. He insisted on staying with you until your temperature was more or less back to normal. He's a keeper, that one.” There was a smile and a knowing look in the older woman's eyes, making Rose blush crimson and avert her eyes. “I'm Angela, by the way. I don't think I had the chance to introduce myself earlier.”

“'s nice to meet you. Could you tell me where I am?”

“Connecticut.”

Rose frowned. “Never heard of it.”

Angela laughed, a glint in her eyes. “Not surprising. We're a small state, we usually get overlooked anyway.”

Before she could come up with any form of reply, she heard the distinct sound of a front door shutting and two pairs of footsteps making their way through the house. “That's them,” Angela said, sinking down onto the arm of the sofa by Rose's feet. Sure enough, the Doctor, accompanied by the young man she vaguely remembered from the road, strolled in, looking cheerful, but Rose could see he was a bit put out.

His expression did a complete turn around the moment his eyes connected with hers; his eyes lit up, his posture straightened, a grin spread his lips. He was kneeling at her side in the blink of an eye. “Look who's awake,” he said, happily. He pressed a hand to her forehead and carefully examined her fingers before placing a kiss where the hand had been and standing. “You're temperature's back to normal and your colour looks much better. I'd say we could go back to the TARDIS, but it appears as though we've been snowed in.”

She struggled to sit up, slower this time, but struggled nonetheless. He took her elbow and gingerly helped her up against the pillow she'd been resting her head on. She was grateful for the new change of perspective, as she could now see how there was another doorway on the opposite side of the room as the other and the archway that lead to the dining room behind the couch out of the corner of her eye. The Doctor crossed to the window and pulled back the drapes, revealing to her the gloomy grey sky and swirling white powder still pouring down from the heavens. She smiled, despite the caged animal feeling it gave her. There was just something about snow that was utterly enchanting.

“You're more than welcome to stay in the guest room,” Angela piped up from her perch. “Brendan can go put sheets on the bed while I start dinner. Soup is okay, right?”

“Soup is gorgeous,” Rose replied, only just realising how hungry she was. The older woman gave them another smile and disappeared the same way her daughter had. She turned to the Doctor, whose grin had suddenly disappeared, and held out a hand. He took it and allowed himself to be pulled down next to Rose, even wrapping an arm around her so she could curl up next to him like he knew she loved to do. She rested her cheek over his right heart and sighed contently. “How bad off was I?”

He hesitated. “A few more hours and...”

“'t's good that Brendan was there when he was, eh? I can't imagine travellin' with an ice lolly would be much fun.” She gave him her best tongue touched smile and watched the worry lines fade from his face. He tugged her closer.

“I don't foresee it being a pleasurable experience, no.” One side of his mouth twitched upwards. “I'm glad you're all right.”

Her breath caught as she felt him press his lips to her hairline. It was the second time he'd kissed her in under ten minutes. She tried not to dwell on it. “So Connecticut. Where, exactly, is that?”

By the time Angela called to them that supper was ready, the Doctor had given Rose the cliff notes history of the small state as well as some interesting facts about the area they were in. She'd laughed when he told her Goldfish were made there, then begged him to take her to the factory. She loved those crackers. She laughed even harder when she found a blue bag of them sitting on the table next to the pot of steaming chicken soup. Her mouth watered at the smell. She hardly even noticed Desiree elbow her brother out of the way to get the seat next to her, or the presence of another child in the room. Sure enough, there was a golden haired toddler bouncing in his chair beside his mother, curls bouncing almost animatedly. Rose grinned at him when stopped to stare at the two strangers in his house.

“This is Duran. Duran, this is Rose and the Doctor. Can you say hello?”

He continued to stare at them, but eventually managed to give a shy wave. “'t's a pleasure to meet you, Duran,” Rose said with an exaggerated nod. The boy blushed and shrunk back into his chair.

They all dived into the soup quickly after the exchange, a quiet falling over them for a few minutes. “Why don't you tell us a bit about yourselves?”

Rose glanced at the Doctor, one eyebrow raised in a lazy warning. He winked. “We're from London. Just got here, actually.”

“What do you do?”

“We travel, mostly. We try to see as much as we can. He's actually been promising me Barcelona for the longest time now, but somehow we've never made it over,” she replied, throwing a pointed look at her companion, who, also pointedly, ignored it.

“Why did you come here, then? Spain is much more interesting than America,” Brendan scoffed, slurping a spoonful of soup.

“I've been keen on seeing what it's like over here for the longest time. I grew up in a rough neighbourhood and never thought I'd even get the chance, but the Doctor here just swept me up. This was a surprise, though. We've been all over, but never America.”

Angela chuckled. “Well, I'm sorry this had to be your first experience. We usually don't get storms like this. They're saying the last one this bad in Connecticut was in the seventies.”

“Yeah, last year we only got a little on Halloween and that was _it_ ,” Desiree chimed in, frowning as she chased a fish cracker around her bowl.

“On Halloween? That's exciting. We hardly ever get much snow in England. Usually just rain. I don't think I've ever seen this much fall all at once.”

Conversation flowed rather easily after that, Rose even coaxed a few shy words out of Duran before they retired to the living room again. Desiree parked herself next to Rose, her big eyes watching her every move. The Doctor, grumbling, claimed the other side, and Duran hesitantly climbed into her lap. They chatted and watched television for a while – Rose was fascinated by some trivia show with catchy theme music, even though the Doctor told her England had their own version of it – before Angela excused herself to get the little ones ready for bed, telling them they could hang out there or in the guest room, and Brendan took a call from a friend in another room.

It was pitch black outside while the two remaining talked. They were both tired, but one more than the other. When Rose stifled a third yawn, the Doctor practically threw her over his shoulder and carried her up the stairs. She rolled her eyes, but conceded that she was, in fact, tired and could use some rest, and followed him up the stairs. The room they'd been given was modest, but still rather nice. The queen bed stood against the side wall, the far one bearing two covered windows. The walls were a neutral beige and the duvet was a brown that nearly matched his suit. She turned to him, abruptly. “We sharing or are you not sleeping?” she asked rather bluntly. He fumbled for a moment. “If you're not sleepin', you can't wander the house; it's rude and you could wake the kids.”

He huffed, but shrugged. “I'll see about getting some sleep,” he muttered, tossing his coat over an arm chair in front of the closet, followed by his jacket.

She turned away so as not to allow herself to stare, and rid herself of her trainers and socks. Her jacket was downstairs, but other than that, she had nothing else to wear, so she glanced over her shoulder at him, who seemed fully concentrated on untying his white chucks, and quickly shed her jeans, then practically throwing herself under the duvet.

It was another few minutes before the Doctor got in beside her, trouser-less. There was a brief moment when their legs touched that they both looked at each other as if they hadn't expected it in the slightest. “Rose, are you not–”

“Well I wasn't gonna sleep in my jeans, was I?” she huffed. “We're both adults here. I think we can handle it.”

They fell silent again for a few minutes, aside from the rustling of the bedsheets as both tried to get comfortable. Rose gave up first, lying on her back, glaring at the ceiling. “Doctor?”

“Rose?”

She hesitated, chewing her lip for a moment before continuing, “d'you mind if we sleep, I dunno, closer? We'll end up rippin' the covers off each other in the night otherwise, and I'm still a bit cold.”

She heard him suck in a breath. “Sure.”

Next thing she knew, she was on her side with the Doctor pressed up against her back. She fit perfectly against him, a fact neither of them missed. With a contented sigh, she shut her eyes and tried not to focus on the arm he'd wrapped around her middle too much. Her dreams that night weren't filled with naughty thoughts, but rather other small miracles such as this performed by the Doctor himself.


	3. Chapter 3

When he woke up the next morning, it was still dark out and Rose was still wrapped up, safe and sound, in his arms. He may not have needed the same amount of sleep that she did, but he definitely needed this Rose time. For a long while, he just watched her face, which was now facing him, thanks to some fortunate rolls in the night. He watched her eyes flick behind their lids as she dreamed of whatever her little heart desired. He watched her nose twitch, probably a side effect of her dream-self smelling something horrid. He watched the sighs and relaxation that cycled with minor tension and confusion. Eventually his eyes fell to watch her chest rise and fall evenly, never failing one way or the other. He was mesmerized by it all.  
  
By her.  
  
That thought alone was the one to make him freeze. She fascinated him, she enchanted him, she confused him to the ends of the universe and back again, she mesmerized him. She loved him.  
  
But did she? He wasn’t naïve enough to believe that she felt absolutely nothing towards him, not with all the hugging and limited space between them most of the time, but did she actually love him? And, more importantly, did she love him the same way he loved her?  
  
He blew out a breath.  _Well, there it is, I suppose_ , he thought. He finally let himself feel it. He loved her. Truly and deeply. There was no turning back now, no more denying it. At least not to himself; to Rose, it was a different story. She wasn’t his typical companion. She was just as strong and all around  _brilliant_  as the rest had been, but she was the first who had accidentally carved her name into his hearts. She was always with him, whether she knew it or not — not that he ever minded. Sometimes, when he worked on the TARDIS, he let his mind drift, but like a rip tide, his thoughts were always pulled back to her. His universe practically revolved around her.  
  
His gaze shifted back to her face for another minute before he decided he needed to take a step back before he did something he would later regret or she would hold against him. If he wanted to keep her around, he knew he had to play it safe. Slowly, so as not to wake her, he unwrapped his arms from around her small frame and got out of the bed. His Time Lord vision aided him in his locating his trousers, but did nothing for him when he nearly tripped over his trainers. Muttering a few alien curses he’d picked up in his travels, he quietly shuffled out of the room, leaving the door slightly ajar. He found the loo on the second door he tried, dark, but functional.  
  
He used the faucet to wash his face and brush his teeth with one of the toothbrushes he kept in his pockets for emergencies such as these. He sat on the lid of the toilet for awhile, trying his hardest to get Rose out of the forefront of his mind. It wasn’t that he didn’t want her there, it was just a lot easier to function if she wasn’t.  
  
It was another five minutes before he was able to go back to the guest room he was sharing with Rose. He rubbed at his eyes as he shuffled across the room. He stopped dead when he heard her murmuring, then sniffle, in her sleep. He thought it had perhaps been a fluke until he distinctly heard  _Doctor_  escape her lips, followed by a weak sob. He was immediately by her side, drawing her head to his chest and stroking her back and hair in a manner he hoped she would find comforting. He began to rock as she continued to weep, still completely submerged in sleep. His hearts broke with each pitiful sound. What had he done that had caused her to cry at his expense?  
  
 _Twelve months, Pete, Satellite Five, Jack, Sarah Jane, Reinette, Pete’s World_ , the nagging voice in his head reminded him. How could she stay with him after all that?  
  
His Rose. Tragically beautiful. Didn’t she know travelling with him could never end well?  
  
The Doctor realised she’d stopped crying and eased her back onto the bed. He then made his way to the door again. There was no reason to stay any longer, not if he wanted to avoid causing her more emotional distress.  
  
–  
  
She couldn’t say she was surprised when she woke to an empty bed. It had been a miracle that he had stayed until she fell asleep, she didn’t expect him to stay much longer. Still, it didn’t stop the tightness in her chest from the previous day to return in full force. It was fear that gripped her like a straight jacket, losing the Doctor. The though alone was one that caused her anxiety level to shoot through the roof. She could blame it on the fact that he was the designated driver, but she knew that wasn’t it alone. It was so much more than that. Perhaps even more than she even understood.  
  
Pushing the thought from her mind, she eased herself off the bed and pulled on her jeans. They were slightly cold from having spend the night away from any form of real heat, but it was a nice contrast to her warm body. Her t-shirt was questionably presentable, but she only shrugged and went down to the kitchen. There, she found Desiree sitting on the dark green marble counter top beside the sink, licking a wooden spoon, and Angela pressing waffles. The little girl’s face lit up when she saw Rose. “Mornin’,” the blonde said, tiredly. She pulled out a stool at the island and plopped herself into it, leaning against it as she faced the two others in the room.  
  
Angela glanced over her shoulder. “Hey, morning,” she said as she pulled out the finished products and threw them on a waiting plate. “I hope you like waffles. It’s kind of a tradition for us when it snows.” She turned and passed her the plate. “There’s syrup and powdered sugar there, and whipped cream in the fridge, if you’d like.” She gestured to the island behind her, then the refrigerator.  
  
Eagerly, Rose used the sifter to cover her waffles with sugar, then tug in with her fork. She barely held back a groan of satisfaction. “These are gorgeous,” she drawled after she swallowed.  
  
The older woman laughed. “Thanks. I’ve finally gotten it down.” She rubbed her hands together over the sink, then placed in the dirty bowl Rose hadn’t even realised was on the counter. Desiree threw the spoon in it as well. “Can I get you something to drink?”  
  
“Water, please, if it’s no trouble.”  
  
Angela let out a ‘pfft’ noise, but Desiree then piped up, “but we have chocolate milk! Chocolate milk goes with waffles so good!”  
  
Rose chuckled, unable to resist the whims of this child, “aright then, chocolate milk sounds lovely.”  
  
The girls fell into a silence that lasted until Rose had cleaned her plate. “Have you seen the Doctor, by chance?”  
  
“Yeah, he’s out helping Brendan shovel the walkway.” Rose smiled at the mental image. The poor boy was probably getting an earful on the snowfall records or the history of the shovel or some other topic he knew way too much about. “Speaking of clearing the walkway,” Angela continued, shifting a pointed look at Desiree, “go put your snow pants on and help your brother, Desi.”  
  
The little girl frowned, but slid off the counter and disappeared.  
  
“I’ll help too,” she offered, placing her dishes in the sink. “I may need a clean shirt and a better coat, but I’m stronger than I look.”  
  
The elder smiled warmly at her. “Of course. Give me a few minutes, I’ll be right back.”  
  
Before long, Rose was suited up in a pair of borrowed boots and four layers of borrowed clothes. After her incident yesterday, it appeared even Angela didn’t trust her body to keep a normal temperature. It was better than the Doctor’s response would have been; “No, you’re in no state to do anything but sit on that chair over there and look pretty.” She scoffed. He may be superior in some aspects, but he was not superior to her so much that he could push her around like that. She trudged out the front door, making her way along the path the other three had cleared until she found them picking and tossing clumps of snow somewhere near the driveway. Rose took a moment to marvel at the fact that probably over two feet of snow had accumulated in only twenty-four hours. She’d never seen anything like that in London.  
  
Desiree was the first to see her. She eagerly ran over and took her hand, guiding her over to where they were working, speaking rapidly about some story the Doctor was telling them. Rose hesitated; if the Doctor was telling a story, it was most likely alien, and if it was alien, there was a good chance they could get kicked out of the nice people’s home. To her surprise, though, he was retelling the story of their adventure with the werewolf at Torchwood not long after he’d regenerated. He was telling it from a different angle, though, so it seemed more like a legend or a fairytale. It seemed to be completely thrilling the young girl. She hung on his every word, and, to be quite honest, so did Rose.  
  
He hadn’t noticed her the whole time he was spinning his story, making it far more exciting and crazy than it had already been. He ended it with a bang and a happy ending of the two heroes running off across the fields of Scotland, hand in hand, ready to take on the universe once more. She clapped, her mittens muffling the sound, but alerting him to her presence. His eyes lit up, but his mouth tilted downward. She cocked her head in a silent, but understood, you-don’t-make-my-decisions-thank-you-very-much look. “Glad to see you’re awake and all bundled up,” he said, at last, handing her an extra shovel sticking out of a pile to the side of the path.  
  
“Angela made sure there was no possible repeats of yesterday,” she nodded, accepting the tool and getting straight to work. After the first couple of shovelfuls, she grew tired of the almost eerie silence. “How old are you two?” she asked, glancing over at Desiree, who was struggling, even with her smaller shovel. The Doctor was discretely picking up anything she missed, plus some extra just to make it appear that he wasn’t. She smiled at the sight.  
  
“I’m seventeen,” Brendan answered first.  
  
“And I’m five.”  
  
“That’s quite a gap,” the Doctor acknowledged. She was impressed he hadn’t said something more insulting. He was, after all, a bit judgemental of humans.  
  
Brendan let out short laugh. “Yeah. My mom had me when she was nineteen. My dad died when I was two months old, so I never really met him. She married Desiree and Duran’s dad, my stepdad, when I was eleven.”  
  
“My dad died when I was a baby, too,” Rose hummed in sympathy. She caught the Doctor looking at her out of the corner of her eye and just shook her head. “Hit by a car.”  
  
“Overdose.”  
  
“I’m so sorry.”  
  
He flashed her an easy smile. “You don’t have to be; it wasn’t like you think. He was in the hospital after an appendix surgery and his body couldn’t process all the medications correctly. No one could have known. It was an accident. And from what Mom says, he was a good guy.”  
  
“So where’s your stepdad now?”  
  
“He’s an EMT. They asked him to stay there until the storm was over, and now he’s stuck because of the roads. He said the fire department’s helping them carry the stretchers over the snow to the ambulances.”  
  
From there, the conversation drifted from Brendan’s interests to Desiree’s favourite animal — kangaroo — to a filtered version of the adventures of the Doctor and Rose. They enjoyed each other’s company as they ploughed their way to the driveway and were eventually called back into the house for a break. Once they had been warmed back up with hot chocolate and a roaring fire in the den, the four went back out, this time Duran accompanying them to play in the snow — and to allow his mother to get some work done. Rose, utterly distracted by the little boy who was both bold and cautious, surrendered her shovel to the Doctor as she entertained the child under the excuse that she was keeping him out of harms way.  
  
The toddler absolutely loved the snow. He immediately dove for the largest pile and slid down it, then practically swam through it, shrieking with laughter as Rose chased him, wiggling her fingers within her mittens as though she were going to tickle him. She caught her companion watching a few times, but just tossed him grins she didn’t have to force, and even got Duran to wave once, when he was held up sideways in her arms.  
  
Even with one less person, the job was done before the sun began to set and they were all settled in by the fire once more before dinner. Rose, with Duran curled up against her chest, was leaning against the Doctor, nearly falling asleep, when Angela found them all. She thanked the two travellers profusely, to which they both just brushed it off, and promised them a hot meal within the hour.  
  
By nightfall, Rose was utterly exhausted, but it appeared as though he was wired for sound. He prattled on about this and that, as she changed into a pair of over-large pyjama bottoms Angela had provided, and a t-shirt to sleep in. Once she was tucked under the covers, though, was when he stopped and got serious. “Rose,” he began, crossing his arms over his chest. “We need to talk.”


	4. Chapter 4

He stood, even though she’d told him to sit a dozen times. More accurately, he paced. It was easier to handle awkward situations such as these with the option to run wide open. He opened his mouth to start every other time he came close to the bed, but never quite got to it until he heard Rose sigh and say, “if you haven’t got a point for keepin’ me up, I’m going to sleep. Good night.”  
  
“No!” he yelped as she reached for the lamp on the night stand. He stopped in his tracks, tugging at his ear. “I mean, I do have a point.”  
  
“Could you get to it, then? I’m a bit sleepy over here.” Her statement was then accented with a yawn.  
  
“Last night,” he started, finally, but it was tense and a bit nervous. She couldn’t recall the last time she saw him unsure of anything, if she ever had in the first place. “Last night, you were crying in your sleep.”  
  
She sat up, leaning against the headboard, and let out a soft, “oh.”  
  
“ _Ye_ ah,” he said, tugging even harder at his wonky ear. “And you… well, that is to say, you kept saying my name.”  
  
Another soft “oh.”  
  
“I don’t suppose you remember what your dreams were about? If they frightened you, I could help, you know,” he tapped his temples, “take them away, if you’d like. I wouldn’t want your dreams to make you scared of the universe. Some aliens are rather scary, sure — you’ve met the Daleks — but some are actually very friendly and I could help you decipher which ones are—”  
  
“ _Doctor_ ,” she barked, drawing him out of his rambles.  
  
“Right, sorry. Go on.”  
  
“I wasn’ dreamin’ a’ aliens. Not in the way you think.”  
  
“You weren’t?” His face brightened.  
  
“No,” she drew out, “but it had to do with aliens.”  
  
The Doctor frowned and began to pace again. “I’m confused.”  
  
She barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes and throwing back a quip, but instead she shook her head. “What I meant was that it involved aliens, but only one really was really important.” When his eyebrows knitted together, she actually rolled her eyes. “I mean you, you daft alien.” One eyebrow drew back and was halfway up his forehead in a split second.  
  
“ _Me_? Why me? Why would I make you cry in your sleep?”  
  
“It’s not your presence that made me cry in that dream. It was the opposite. You weren’t there.” He looked as if he were about to throw out an abundance of reassurances, so she held up a hand to stop him. “’t’s one ‘a those reacurrin’ things. Usually the same. You tell me to wait with the TARDIS while you go off and save the world without me. Then these figure-less… _things_  come and I scream and scream for you to come back, but….” her already soft voice trailed into nothing. She shook her head, eyes trained on her hands in her lap. “’t’s stupid, I know.”  
  
Her words made his hearts ache. Dreams were a window into the true self, as they said, so did she really believe that he would just leave her? _You have before_ , the voice reminded him. It was true. It had started with the Gamestation / Satellite Five, and only escalated from there. Reinette was the latest, and he knew, even though he told her  _five and a half hours_ , that it had truly cut her deeply. The knowledge that he’d left Sarah Jane behind could only make matters worse. She thought she was expendable, that he would just up and leave her on some planet god-knows where in the universe, never to be heard from again. His hearts clenched. “Rose,” he breathed, moving forward to sit on the bed, sideways so he could face her. “I wouldn’t— I  _couldn’t_ —” he tried and failed to formulate just the right words to say to her.  
  
She shook her head again, more forceful this time. “But you  _have_ ,” she whispered, hoarsely, “and I know you think it’s for my own good and to save other people, but you have and what’s to say that the next time you’ll actually come back? I don’t hold it against you, but it doesn’t exactly make me feel all warm and cuddly on the inside.”  
  
It hit him like a punch. He really was a daft alien. “Rose,” he tried again, but this time she just cut him off completely.  
  
“No, Doctor, you don’t have to apologize for this — you don’t  _get_  to. The things you do when you leave me behind are spectacular, it would just be nice to be given two weeks notice before you leave me behind. I’m not some child you can just lock away in a tower somewhere to protect me from all the bad in the world.” She looked up, but not at him; no, she looked straight forward, carving holes into the wall with her eyes. “And then things like last night happen, where we get so close and are so comfortable with each other… It doesn’t make sense, Doctor. How can you do things like…” she let out a frustrated grunt before she continued, “ _hold me_  when I sleep, and then just push me back to arms length? You’re always remindin’ me that you’re  _not human_  and you’re  _not like humans_  but what you did for me last night was human. It was a human gesture that said you cared for me, but I guess maybe it was alien for  _I’m sorry_. I just don’t get it, Doctor.”  
  
“Rose, I—”  
  
“And you know what else I don’t get? How you can always be huggin’ me and tellin’ me how much you love travellin’ with me, and then run off with some blonde historical figure. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I thought eighteenth century France was pretty fixed and she couldn’t just disappear to come with us. I’m not stupid enough to believe that you didn’t at least offer after you saved her.” She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Honestly, I’m surprised you came back at all that time, what with the smashing time you had making the first banana daiquiri and all. You could’ve been perfectly content staying in France with her. More refined, anyway.”  
  
“Hey!” he exclaimed, frowning deeply. “Don’t say that. If it was Cassandra who put that thought in your head, I swear I’ll give her a much less peaceful death.”  
  
She looked at him in astonishment, though not the good kind. “It wasn’t  _Cassandra_ , thanks for askin’. I’m from an  _estate_ , that’s hardly a classy place to raise a  _child_. People look down their noses at me all the time, not that you’d notice.”  
  
“Because  _I_  don’t see an estate girl, I see Rose Tyler, brilliant Rose Tyler, the one who saved me, the one who amazes me more everyday, the one who keeps me in line. I see Rose Tyler, the dame, the one who doesn’t back down, the one who’s fiercely loyal, the one who would cross the universe to help someone. I don’t see what everyone else sees, Rose. I see  _you_.”  
  
She looked over and was momentarily paralysed by the intensity of honesty in his eyes. She took a deep breath and looked away, chin quivering just barely. “Then why aren’t you seeing me now?” she whispered.  
  
“I don’t—”  
  
“No, no of course you don’t. ‘t’s aw’right. ‘s stupid anyway.”  
  
The Doctor gripped her shoulders and gently turned her to face him. “Whatever it is, I promise you I won’t think it’s stupid. I promise.”  
  
She wouldn’t look him in the eyes, but he could see the tears there. Whatever it was was tearing her apart at the seams. His Rose didn’t cry over nothing.  
  
 _His_  Rose. First he was in love with her, now she was his. He wanted to yell in frustration. She wasn’t his, not really. Never would be; never could be.  
  
“The thing is, Doctor,” she started, a bit stronger than before, “it terrifies me, losing you. It’s the one thing in this whole stinkin’ universe that scares me. I’ve stared down Daleks and chased down Slitheen and stopped Cybermen and almost been sawed apart by clock men and seen a glob of goo ruin an entire planet, but the  _only_  thing that really petrifies me is losing you.”  
  
He sat back, hands falling to hers. Unconsciously, he laced their fingers together and squeezed. He may not be the best with words in this body, despite the fact he knew quite a lot of them, but his tactility proved to be his saving grace, at least when it came to Rose. He stroked his thumb over the back of her hand as the first tear slid down her cheek. His free hand automatically reached up to brush it away. He couldn’t miss the way she leaned into it. “I’m here now, I’m not going anywhere.”  
  
She drew back, shaking her head. “No,” she choked, “you can’t promise that. You don’t know that for sure.”  
  
“I can promise you that I’ll always come back for you, no matter how long it takes me to get there.” She sniffed loudly, still unable to look him in the eyes. He reached out again and brushed his hand over the tear tracks that had carved their way down her face.  
  
“How can you say that? After Sarah Jane and whoever else got left behind, how can you promise me that?” she whispered.  
  
In that moment, his hearts nearly shattered, never to be repaired. “You’re  _different_ , and that’s not some line I stole from Jack. I’ve never had the same relationship with any of my other companions. Never had a connection like this.” She finally —  _finally_  — looked at him, eyes shining and mouth inverting a smile. “You’re not like the rest, Rose.”  
  
“How d’you mean?  _How_  am I so different? I saw the way you were with Sarah Jane ‘n’ wasn’t so different from how you are around me.”  
  
He couldn’t stop himself from pushing himself off the bed and pacing again. Truth be told, though, he didn’t even try. He ran a hand through his hair and tugged at his ear and went through practically every nervous habit he’d had in every single regeneration. How could explain it to her without giving it all away? He couldn’t. That was the easy answer. But he had to stretch for the hard answer, the impossible answer. He _had_  to.  
  
“See, you can’t even answer that,” she said, sounding defeated. “Well, if it makes any difference, I thought you were different, too. Different from anyone I’ve ever met, and I don’t just mean that you’ve got a little blue box that travels through all of time and space or that you’re an alien. I mean you’re completely new and different and exciting and brilliant, and I’ve never met anyone like that, not all at once. I thought you’d be different from…everyone else, but I suppose I was wrong.”  
  
He stopped and stared at her. Had she implied what he thought she had? “What do you mean,  _everyone else_?”  
  
“Does it matter?”  
  
“Yes, it matters!”  
  
She frowned and huffed. “It hasn’t before,” she bit back, “but if you must know, I love you. Or at least I thought I did. I thought you’d be different from the guys I’ve been with, but in the end I suppose you’re not so different from them.”  
  
Once again, her words cut him like a knife, but the promise of the first sentence spurred him on. “Say it again,” he demanded.  
  
“Say  _what_  again?”  
  
“Say it again,” he practically growled.  
  
“ _I love you_.” It wasn’t the heartfelt declaration he’d so often dreamed of — it was far from it. It was a weapon, one that had the potential to destroy him from the inside out, and she used it that way, punctuating each word like one would yell at a petulant child. It made him angry and outrageously happy simultaneously. He crossed the room in two strides and was pressing her back to the headboard as he snogged her for all she was worth. She froze for a moment, tense up against his lips, but then she melted into it and responded as aggressively and passionately as he. Her hands wound their way into his hair and tugged and scratched and stroked while his held his weight on either side of her body.  
  
She was the one to pull back, or rather turn her head so his lips fell to the line of her jaw. She gasped for breath, chest heaving as he sweetly pressed a kiss to the shell of her ear and sat back, hair effectively ruffled and lips slightly swollen from the power of the kiss. His gaze was still rather angry, but most of it had melted away, leaving room for adoration and devotion and a whole slew of other emotions Rose couldn’t even identify. He licked his lips. “Say it again.”  
  
“I love you,” she heaved, this time without the venom or frustration. This time it was the heartfelt sentiment he’d dreamed of, albeit a little more breathless than he’d anticipated. It made him lean forward once more and press a much softer, more loving, less harsh, kiss to her lips. He was more than pleased when she responded in much the same way.  
  
This time, he pulled back to allow her air. He leaned forward so his mouth was beside her ear just so he could whisper, “quite right, too.” Her soft laughter rang in his ear. He pressed a kiss to the shell of her ear. “And if you must know, I love you too.”  
  
It was a mutual thing to call it a night after a few more rounds of snogging and roaming hands, both utterly exhausted from both the day’s work and the emotional roller-coaster they’d just stepped off. His grip was deliberate and firm that night as he held her close, her face tucked into the crook of his neck, as she slept. He may have been tired, but he stayed awake for hours, just marvelling at the miracle this little pink-and-yellow human was. And she was his, or as close to his as she could be. One could never simply own Rose Tyler; a woman of her calibre never could, and should never, be owned. But for the moment, she was his in his arms, freely and willingly giving herself to him. Just one more thing to check off on the list of things that amazed him about Rose Tyler.


	5. Chapter 5

The following morning, Rose was admittedly terrified she’d dreamt the whole thing. She wasn’t sure she could go back to “normal” after experiencing not only the Doctor’s criminally talented lips dancing on hers, but also hearing those four little words whispered in her ears. There was no way, she decided, she could go back from that. Not a chance.

To her great relief, though, she didn’t have to.

She woke up to find the Doctor still holding her tightly. She smiled broadly and snuggled deeper into him, twining their legs together and winding her arms around his skinny frame. He only pulled her closer with a lazy noise of approval. And they stayed like that for ten minutes, by her reckoning. The sun was casting beams of light on the hardwood floor behind her, even through the drapes, but she paid no mind. She was more than content to just stay in his arms forever, if she could.

Eventually, though, her stomach growled, sending the Doctor into a tangent all about the importance of a good breakfast, subsequently causing her to drag herself out of bed and get dressed. They were downstairs in a matter of minutes, the aroma of pancakes wafting through the hallway from the kitchen. She let go of his hand to catch the little boy who was barrelling his way down the hall towards them. He squealed in delight as she picked him up and carried him upside down to where the smell was coming from. Angela was sitting at the island, a large grin planted on her face, with Brendan standing against the wall, drinking a glass of orange juice, Desiree to her right, wolfing down what looked to be chocolate chip pancakes, and a tall, well built man flipping the ones on a skillet. It was the picture of a happy family.

Duran clung to Rose as she flipped him right side up again, refusing to be let down. With a chuckle, she didn’t object, rather sat down next to Desiree with him in her lap, with a bright “good morning” to the others.

“Morning,” was the collective reply.

“We thought you’d never get out of bed,” Angela joked, sliding two plates towards Rose and the Doctor.

Rose’s cheeks turned bright pink. “We were up late; I couldn’t sleep.”

“Honey, you don’t have to explain anything to me,” the woman replied, a twinkle in her eye.

“Mom,” Brendan rolled his eyes, pushing off the wall and heading to the refrigerator.

“What?” she asked, innocently, then winked at Rose. “Rose, Doctor, this is my husband Hank. He got in early this morning. He says the roads are clear enough he can get you back to your car.”

The man turned around and smiled warmly at them. “Nice to meet you. She’s told me how attached Duran’s gotten. Might want to be careful there; he’s learned the puppy dog face and knows how to use it.” Mirth danced in green eyes that were accented by his light hair. “It’s gonna be another few hours before we can go, but I’d be happy to get you back.”

“Thank you so much,” Rose tried to convey how truly thankful she was to the family. She elbowed the Doctor, who had already begun to dig in.

“Yes, thank you very much,” he agreed through a mouthful of food.

“You’ll have to excuse his rudeness; seems he was born without manners.”

Desiree giggled. “Mommy says manners are important.”

Rose leaned towards her, around Duran, and stage-whispered, “I don’t think he much listened to his mummy.”

“Oi!”

A few hours later found them in the tiny backseat of Hanks rather large pick-up truck with Desiree stuck between them, and Brendan sitting in the passenger’s seat. One of their elderly neighbours had called and asked if they could help shovel him out, and they’d eagerly jumped on the opportunity, Hank using the outing as the opportunity to bring them to what they let him believe was their car. If he only knew, Rose mused.

It had been a tear-filled goodbye — mostly on Duran’s part — where ‘thank you’s and phone numbers were exchanged and a certain little body clung to Rose like a koala. She promised him he’d be more than happy with his family and that she would try her best to visit, throwing a pointed look at the Doctor, and that seemed to calm him enough for them to leave without much more incident.

Desiree asked them, but mostly her, as many questions as she could fit in one car ride about anything and everything — where she lived, how old she was, if she had any pets, about her mum, where they met, where they travelled…the list went on and on. The Doctor actually found it rather exciting, eagerly answering every question she didn’t immediately jump on that didn’t pertain to her personal life. Of course, Brendan jumped in a few times to ask some of his own questions, and Hank put in a few good words, but they seemed more content to let the two with the gift of gab carry on the conversation, Rose eventually fading into the background as well.

“That’s it up there,” Rose said when she caught sight of the TARDIS on the opposite side of the road. She pointed so Hank could see.

“That blue box?” he asked, astonished.

“That’s the one,” she answered, proudly.

“You’re joking.”

Rose smiled. “No, not joking. ‘t’s a bit bigger on the inside.” The Doctor grinned.

Hank pulled over and they all unloaded from the truck. Rose hugged Brendan and thanked him again for picking them up, then Desiree, while the Doctor shook Hank’s hand and waited for Rose to be done. When she stepped away from the little girl, she waved and took the Doctor’s outstretched hand. “Watch this, you’re gonna love it,” she told Desiree, a knowing grin engraved on her face.

The three stood beside the truck and watched as the two travellers bounded over the snow piles and made their way to the TARDIS. Rose laughed as she slipped and stumbled through the deep snow, the Doctor tugging her along. She’d never been so grateful that the ‘Pull to Open’ sign was ignored in her life, as trying to pull the doors open with two feet of snow on the ground would have been more than a minor inconvenience. She waved one last time at the family before following the Doctor into the console room. He flew about, flicking switches and turning knobs and pulling levers to start the dematerialization sequence, then slapped on the monitor so they could watch the eyes of the three they had just left widen and their mouths drop open as they watched. He took her hand and squeezed as she watched with a touch of wistfulness. “We’ll visit them, yeah?” she asked after a long pause.

“Yeah, we’ll visit.”

She nodded, then shut off the monitor and turned to him. “Can we visit my mum? I think I’d like to tell her about Mickey now.”

He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead and went about setting their destination without a word. She shut her eyes and leaned against the console, listening to the mix of humming and her companion’s movements. She smiled softly to herself. She knew she wasn’t just his companion any more. She was so much more than she even knew. She was his, as he was hers.


End file.
